


"Guardian of the Forest"

by drizzle



Series: Drama, Fereldan-Style [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Elves, Gen, Unicorns, bandit-killer, different dimension, eluvian - Freeform, forest-dwelling, maybe star wars, poop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drizzle/pseuds/drizzle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you were thrown into the Thedas without any knowledge of it beforehand, how do you think you'd survive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the language isn't exact because the main character doesn't yet know the correct terms herself. For instance, gremlins usually mean darkspawn. Context clues are pretty important, I suppose.

I think it's safe to say that my ability to adapt has never been as tested as it has now.  To get used to hygiene and technology, and then be thrown into a world like this is baffling.  I'll admit, the first time I had to shit in the forest, I really just wanted to kill someone.  And that's allowed here too.  Go out searching for bandits, and you can discover your sick pleasure in killing murderers.  I mean, _my_ sick pleasure.  I guess that's not painting me in the greatest light, but c’mon.  They had it coming. 

 I don't consider myself a vigilante, but she sure did.  Elissa, I mean.  The Grey Warden, I think she called herself?  And she said it proudly too, like it was supposed to mean something to me.  Too bad her voice annoyed the hell out of me, because I might’ve actually asked her what it meant.

Elissa said that she'd heard about me from rumors in the Dalish Camps – which are groups of little hippie people I take advantage of from time to time.  I even earned myself a nickname, the Forest Guardian.  It's actually kind of funny, I laughed at her when she told me.  I only protect them from those bandits because I need to steal food from them sometimes.

Anyway, she'd asked me to join her group to save the world, but I said no.  I needed to save myself.  I needed to get back to the real world.  That damned mirror was the last thing I remember before I was somehow brought here.    
  
I made a living by stealing – or taking, rather – off these bandits.  I've got a nice pile of gold in my bag, not that I ever use it, so in a way I depend on bandits for my survival.  They’ve always got the tastiest food.  I could just go hunting, but I've seen some pretty disgusting things while I've been here.  Demon possessed wolves and bears?  No, thank you.  I haven't even seen any deer or rabbits.  Or horses.  Just those halla things, but I always see a colony of the little people protecting them like they were gods.

"Hey!"

The voice startles me, breaking my train of thought.  I whirl around.  "What?" I demand, looking down on the boy.  He's strange.  Short, but slim, and with pointed-ears and hair as brown as tree bark.  Then I realize that he’s one of them.  They're elves.  I never got close enough to them to know what they were.

"I know you!  You're the Forest Guardian!" he says in total awe, until he looks at me a little closer.  "Wait, you're a _shem_?  What are you even doing here?"  
Admiration suddenly is turned into contempt.  In turn, I answer back in condescension.

"What are _you_ doing here? Shouldn't you be working for Santa, little elf boy?  Or did he order you to come bother me?"  
"I work for no one!  I am one of the Dalish!" he fires back, appalled by the idea of working under a loveable fat man.  And then I remember that he doesn't even know who Santa is.  I laugh at my mistake, but he thinks I'm laughing at him.

"What's so funny, _shem_?" he sneers.  I just point at his bow and arrow. 

"Go back to your camp, Dalish boy.  You're too young to be hunting alone."

"You humans think you know everything, bu-"

"Don't be so naïve.  Look around!  You're in a forest infested with werewolves and those goddamn imp creatures. **Alone** ," I lecture him, waving my arm towards the endless amount of nature surrounding us. 

"Don't you dare tell me I don't know more than you.  How old are you?"

He glares at me, angry over the fact that he's taking this from a human know-it-all like me, and says grudgingly, "I'm nine."

"Nine," I tsk, shaking my head.  "I bet you're not even allowed to be out here, are you?" A guilty look grants me my answer.  I sigh. "Are you lost?"

"No!  I know the forest like the back of my hand!"

"All right, wise guy.  So I trust that if I just left you to fend for yourself, you can get back home safely?"

He hesitates.  "...yeah."  The weakness in his voice implies otherwise, and my mind is already racing.  How should I deal with this little liar?

"Okay, see you around. I hope you don't get killed," I say nonchalantly, waving him off as I walk away.  Was it a cruel way of helping him?  Maybe.  But still effective.  The next thing I know, the little fool's following me like a Labrador, which means the responsibility of delivering him back to the Dalish falls onto me.  And something tells me that these Dalish don't appreciate people like me escorting their children anywhere.  We wander for an hour in silence, but in an instant, that peace is broken by his voice again.  "So...why are you helping me?"

"Who says I’m helping you?  I could be leading you into a bear cave, and you wouldn’t even know it,” I tease, trying to scare him.  He just looks at me like I’m an idiot.

“There aren’t any bear caves around here.”

I shrug.  It was worth a shot.

"It's just...humans aren't supposed to help elves.  The elders are always telling me to stay away from people like you because you are the oppressors."  
"The oppressors," I repeat, tasting the word.  Being both a female and Hispanic, I thought for sure my name would never be in the same sentence as "oppressor," at least not where I come from.  So I just chuckle at the irony.  “I’m no oppressor.”

The boy contemplates this in silence; his nose wrinkling at the thought of everything he's ever known is a lie.  "So the elders weren't telling the truth?"

I'm about to reply as gently as I could (which isn’t very gentle), until I spot the most grotesque creature I've ever seen in the distance.  It had horns, and a snout that looked like it had been smashed in, and was surrounded by those unhygienic gremlin creatures that if you get a whiff of them, you just want to vomit out all your innards.

"Get down," I say lowly.

"Why?"

Now is _not_ the time to be questioning my authority.  "Look." His green eyes follow my index finger, and I know he spots it as soon as he turns pale.  "Get.  _Down_."

For once, he does as he is told.  Luckily, several trees and bushes hide us from a gruesome death.  But we had to get out of there as soon as possible, because once they were in a close proximity of us, they could easily slit our throats.

"Okay kid," I begin, trying to control the tremble in my voice, "We need to sneak away from them.  If they spot us, you run as fast as you can, don't even try to attack them, all right?" He nods, not daring to take his eyes off me.  "Good.  Let's go."

I look between the leaves of the bush to check their location.  "Fuck," I gasp under my breath.  They're closer now, just a few meters away from us.  I motion to the elf boy, telling him to follow.  We managed to get away a few more meters, until he steps on a twig.  Time stops for a moment, as I snap my head behind me to check if they heard.  They had, because they were looking right at us.  I froze.  They were now readying their weapons, and the ogre was starting to charge in rage.  

"Run!"

I threw myself at them, dodging their impending arrows as best as I could.  The boy was gone in an instant, just as I told him to do, giving me back the focus I needed to survive.

I danced around, getting all their attention so they'd forget the boy.  The ogre attempts to slam into me, but I jump out of the way, rolling down a hill.  They follow me with their arrows, two graze the flesh of my neck.  The adrenaline coursing through my veins insists that I ignore the pain, so I do, and I manage to kill the two shorter gremlins – the  archers – with my own arrows.  That only leaves the ogre and the taller gremlin.  The tall one begins to chase me, sword in his hand, and the only thing I can do is keep running.  The ogre follows closely behind the last gremlin, trying to work in a good body slam.  Suddenly, something catches the neck of my shirt, pulling my body toward the ground.  The creature chortles viciously as it looks down on me, knifing my collar into the ground, then leaves the ogre to finish me off.  I take in what I think is my last breath, watching the ogre slowly approach.  I have to say, I never thought it would end like this.  I close my eyes, thinking to myself that at least I died uniquely.  I waited for my life to flash behind my eyelids, waiting for the life-changing light everyone keeps talking about.  
The stomping of the ogre stops abruptly, and next thing I hear is the battle cries of a group of people.  Daring to open my eyes, I watch as the woman called Elissa and her companions take down the ogre, the gremlin already lying dead by their feet.  It takes all four of them to take the monster down, and they turn their attention to me as soon as the creature falls to the ground, blood spurting all over the place.

"Well, well, well. 'I don't need you to survive,' she said.  'I can survive on my own,' she said," taunts the tan one with the blond hair. "Tch."

"Zevran..."

"What?  I'm only jesting."

Elissa pulls the knife from the ground, releasing me.  "Thanks," I say weakly, rubbing my neck.  Remembering I was wounded finally brought my biting pain back to my attention, prompting me to ask if they had any bandages to spare.

"Here, let me," says the elderly one, putting her glowing hand on my neck.  Normally, I'd question the safety of this abnormal ability, but seeing how it immediately soothed my pain, I forgot to mention it. 

"Thank you.  Um.  I don't suppose you ran into an elf boy, about this high?" I ask, sticking out my hand.

"Yes, we ran into him," Elissa says, the information surprisingly relieves me.  "He's right over there."

She points behind her, and there he stood, without a scratch.  "When he found us, he told us what happened."

"I guess I owe you one.  Thanks," I say openly, not looking at either of them.  When I do sneak a peek at the boy, he grins, but it disappears in an instant.  Probably imagining hat his mom will do to him when she finds out about our big misadventure.

"Come on, let's get him back to the camp."

The camp wasn't far, just a half a mile away.  Apparently, they hadn't heard the commotion, and weren't even aware of that the "darkspawn" were even in their forests.

"You must be the Forest Guardian," says one elf, bald and with tattoos on his face.  "Thank you for returning our young one to us, his mother was very worried about him.  My name is Zathrian.  Any friend of the Warden is welcome here."

I look at Elissa, and she smiles warmly back at me.  We’re _so_ not friends.  "It was no problem.  Just make sure he doesn't hunt alone ever again."

"Is that what you were doing?"

"I wanted to prove myself worthy as a hunter," the boy replies.  "But...I was wrong to do that."

"Hmm.  It seems you've learned your lesson.  I won't tell your mother as long as you never do it again."

"Yes, Keeper."

"Anyway, I must get back to the wounded.  I hope your quest for Witherfang is going well, Warden."

Once he is gone, I quickly begin to leave the premises.  Damned Grey Warden and her quest to save the world.  I can’t be caught up in that, I’ve got my own problems. 

“Wait, wait,” the boy’s voice says from behind me.  I turn to find him speeding up to catch up with me.  As soon as he does, he seems to think that we’re friends and pats me on the back.  “You’re all right for a human.  Stupid for throwing yourself in the way to save my life, but you’re all right.”

I scoff.  “Criticism?  Please.  You were shitting your pants while you ran, elf boy.”

He smiles and laughs, amused by my profanity.  “Yeah, but I would’ve lived to see another day.”

“That’s a coward’s motto,” I tell him, starting to smile myself.  I look up from him, noticing that Elissa was starting towards me.  “Shit.  Kid, I’ve gotta go, but it was nice saving you.”

He glances in the same direction I was looking, catching on.  “Don’t go yet.  I’ll have someone distract her.  I wanted to give you something because I think it’d look really cool on you.”

“That’s alright, kid, you don’t need to give me anything.  Your backtalk is reward enough, but thank you.”

Looking disappointed, he gives a pinched smile and says, “Okay.  Maybe someday we can go hunting together” before running off.

Running off wasn’t a bad idea, and I don’t know why I didn’t follow his example.   Elissa caught up to me within minutes , kind of making me wish I had taken the kid up on his offer.  "So back in the forest, you said you owed me one?"

Crap.  It's my fault for not specifying the thank-you-for-getting-help was for the boy.  What's the worst that can happen though?  I know she won't ask me again to join her group. 

"Yeah?" I say carefully, not quite accepting the request.

"You should really consider helping us with finding Witherfang.  You know your way around the forests really well, and I was hoping you knew where the ruins are."

I had seen them once, but now a cloud blocks the path, and it teleports me back to the entrance of the forest.  You can imagine how very annoyed and confused I was when this happened to me the first time.  

"Sure, I guess."

How hard can it be, to lead them back to the cloud?  I have a keen sense of direction; I knew the forest better than I knew my own city.  Ignoring the shocked and appalled faces of the elves ignorant of my status as Forest Guardian, (a human in _their_ forests?! Inconceivable)  I led the Grey Warden and her friends back through the woods.  I never struck up conversation with any of them, since I had already decided that being reserved around them would probably make me look standoffish, and therefore not fit to be a companion of Ms. Sunshine-Smile.  When I glance behind, under the guise of checking if they were keeping up, the Warden flashes yet another of her inhuman smiles, wide as a whale.  It touches her eyes and everything.  I don’t understand how she can be so damn happy all the time.  I stolidly smile back, blatantly lacking genuineness.

Once we reach the cloud concealing the ruins, I clap my hands together, as if saying “Well, that’s our show, ladies and gentlemen.” 

“Move aside,” the blond elf demands, shoving me out of the way.  I frown at his audaciousness, to which he only returns with a backward flirty grin and a wink.

“Well, glad I could help,” I say insincerely, my eyes not leaving the elf’s face, daring him to touch me again.  “But my duties as the official Forest Guardian call me elsewhere so…goodbye.”

“Wait!  I wanted to ask if you’d reconsider my offer,” Whale-face says, looking desperate.  I really don’t know why she keeps insisting.  I’m not a nice person, I’m not interesting, and I’m incompetent in the ways of combat (as demonstrated by my encounter with the ogre).  Why welcome someone who clearly doesn’t like you? 

My peeved eyes don’t leave the tanned elf when I say “I’m better off on my own.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been a few days since my near-death experience.  The Warden still hadn’t come out of the ruins, and I’m starting to wonder if she’s still alive.  Several things occur to me at once, playing out in my imagination.  Maybe she got ripped to shreds by the wolf people.  Maybe she was poisoned by the giant-ass mutation spiders.  Or maybe she was eaten by man-eating demon creatures.

I jump down from the tree sitting nearby the entrance of the ruins.  Day and night, I’d watched what I heard the Warden’s friend call “flea heaven.” Knowing that she was still around irked me a little.  Other women on my territory make me paranoid.  Maybe it wasn’t the best of calls to decide, oh hey, why don’t I explore the werewolf haven while the full moon is out?  Yeah, what’s the worst that can happen.

But for some reason, my hatred of too much estrogen in the same forest drives me to abandon all practicality.  Under the moon, I sneak toward the entrance, and make my way down the steps of death.  Kind of reminds me of that story Edgar Allan Poe wrote about some guy bothered by an old man because of his giant eyeball.  But in this case, it’d be a woman with a whale-smile. 

The ruins were quiet, I could smell the already decaying wolf bodies.  She definitely came through here.  One of the walls, hidden by a waterfall of vines, seemed out of place.  Suspicious.  I approached it without thinking, moving the vines out of the way to reveal a perfectly shaped rectangle crack, which could only mean a hidden door.  I, being lazy and someone who cuts corners a lot, decide what the hell?  Definitely saves me from having to explore the home of man-eating wolf people.

I push the wall, spinning it like a revolving door, and end up finding more steps that go deeper underground.  So much that even water seemed to find a way here.  The steps lead lower and lower, and eventually, I have to depend on sounds to find my way.  I start to hear low growls in the distance, a snarling dog-voice (if that’s possible) conversing with a soothing woman voice, a woman’s voice that was not Elissa’s.  The voice had a natural echo to it, that’s seemed to calm the anger in the wolf.  Once I’m close enough, near a door I think, I can hear their conversation clearly.

“Lady, I request that we execute them now.  Now is the time is strike while they’re unconscious!” the snarling voice says, obviously struggling to speak.  The “Lady” replies “No, I don’t believe she means to kill us.”

“But she has attacked our kin!” the voice argues, his tone pitching higher.  “You forget that if you wish to be rid of the curse, you must keep your humanity.  No one will accept us if we retaliate with murder.”

“…Yes, my Lady.”

From the crack of the door, I can see the hairy body of a seven foot beast, speaking to a woman almost chartreuse in color.  She was clearly naked, with roots for hands and black hair spilling over her bare shoulders.  Well, no wonder the wolves listen to her. 

I swear that I sat there for hours, waiting to see the Warden for myself.  Apparently, they were knocked out by “shadow wolves” and were lying unconscious in the room leading into the one the tree lady was waiting in.  Finally, I heard the news from another wolf, who declares that the leader was now awake.

Their conversation went around in circles.  Must save humans.  Must use elves for the Blight.  Must save humans first.  Elves will not help unless humans die.  Save humans anyway.  Finally, they somehow started talking about the Keeper Zathrian.  Bring him here, the tree lady requested.  See for yourself.

The Warden agrees, and approaches the door I’m hiding behind.  Quickly, I jump into the shadows, willing myself to be invisible.  When she comes back with the suspicious Keeper, I watch intently from the door.  Another boring conversation takes place, about Zathrian’s children, the curse, and immortality.  I mean, I know it might _sound_ interesting, but the way they went around in circles just never failed to astound me.

I begin to fall asleep when I suddenly hear a shout, a sudden chill tingling at my skin jerks me awake.  The Keeper has his magical tree branch, casting spells every which way.  Animating the underground trees, casting a sudden winter storm, healing himself as everyone begins to attack him relentlessly.  Elissa attacks him from behind, so intent on killing him in a single strike that she fails to notice the demon-possessed tree behind her.  The tree swings its enormous arm branch, hitting the back of her head brutally.  She flies across the room, which amuses me to a certain level, until I notice that while her companions are busy with the tree demons, Zathrian goes in for the kill.

A life for a life.  She saved mine.  I have no choice in the matter.  But I didn’t want to get involved.  It would put an end to my plans of eventually using the Dalish for my own needs.  But I can’t let her die, not with a life debt.  Okay…save her life now, and never worry about it again.  Disappear before anyone sees.  Go back to the Dalish, and maybe manipulate them into doing what you want.  No one has to know you helped kill Zathrian. 

Before I’m done arguing with myself, and arrow is already piercing the air, and punctures Zathrian right in the forehead as he raises his staff for the final blow.

Frozen in place, I can only watch as he staggers backward, the storm dying down, and everyone turns to find him struggling to heal himself.  The blond man, the other Warden, jumps to subdue the bald elf, while everyone puzzles over where the arrow came from.  I hide into the shadows again, but I’m sure the muscled Grey Warden catches eye contact with me before I flee.  Quicker than the wind, I run out of the ruins, and am greeted by the morning sun.

Panting, I make a split-second decision to make my way to the Dalish, but as I turn, I come face to face with the hedonist elf man.


	3. Chapter 3

“Surprise,” he says coyly.  My fists ball up, mortified at the fact that I let myself be tricked.  I try to remember if I’d seen him in the struggle with Zathrian, even though I knew I hadn’t. 

“What do you want, elf?” I spit at him.

“Such angry words for a beautiful woman.  You remind me of a certain witch I know.”

My eyes narrow in irritation.  The elf is relentless.

“I don’t care for your flattery.  Or…insults,” I add.  He did just say I reminded him of a witch.  Is that considered charm here in Ferelden?  “Answer my question.”

He sighs disappointedly, as if he’d expected a game of witty banter.  “Well, my dear, I was ordered to watch you.  I must admit, you shadow abilities are superb, but still inferior to mine.”

I stare at him, wondering if I should be offended.  “Why were you ordered to watch me?” I demand, straight to the point. 

“The Warden believes that you can still be of use to us.  And she was correct, considering your little arrow demonstration in there.”

“I’m _not_ going to join your group.  Ever.”

“Still.  She will probably ask that you help her with the Blight, with or without your company on her travels.”

“And why should I care about your Blight troubles?”

Suddenly, his eyes went uncharacteristically dark.  His movement was too fast for my eyes, and I suddenly find myself on the ground, a knife at my throat.  I glare up at him.  He thinks he can threaten me into joining them?  Ha.  I’m not afraid of dying.

“Go ahead.  Kill me,” I dare him, knowing full well that the look in his eyes promised death.  It doesn’t matter.  I’ll finally be done with this place.  Demons, werewolves, and gremlins are little too much for me.  He’d be doing me a favor.  The elf stares me down, searching my eyes, like if he were looking for trepidation.  I offered none.

As quickly as he subdued me, he sheaths his weapon, leaving me wondering how he can possibly be so fast.  “Good for you, wench,” he says, a grin slowly curling on his face, “Sooner or later you’ll seek us out.  Mark my words.”

He takes a moment to assess my face, his dull brown eyes going from my eyes to my lips.  I scowl in response, making him chuckle and finally saunter away. 

When I get back up, I realized that I broke my bow when I fell.  The bow, which I’d taken from my first bandit, was a beautiful mahogany, broken down the middle with only the string holding it together.  I curse at the elf under my breath, knowing that the only place that I could buy a similar one was at the Dalish camp, which I generally avoid.  Without a bow, there’s no way I could continue terrorizing bandits. I’m not a close combat sort of person. 

I brace myself before I walk into elf-infested camp, expecting to be stoned before I can even reach the craftsman.  Do they know I helped kill their immortal leader?  Do they know that I had a little something to do with the sudden disappearance of all the werewolves?  Well, we’ll know sooner or later.

The sentry at the entrance of the camp lets me through as soon as she sees me, but doesn’t say a word.  As I walk through the clearing, everyone looks at me solemnly, worry in all their eyes.  A young woman, a mage judging from the funny looking stick she carries around, approaches me.

“Greetings, Guardian,” she addresses me formally, automatically throwing me into suspicion. 

“Hello.”

“I’m Lanaya, the Keeper’s First-“

My heart stops, and so does my breathing.  Her mouth was moving, but I was no longer listening, knowing that she was going to ask me about their Keeper.  I can’t tell them.  Not in the very middle of their camp.  I quickly look around, trying to get a rough count on how many elves were armed.  How fast would I have to be to get away?  Could I get away faster if I pulled a Tarzan and swung from tree to tree?  Because I learned how to do that.

“Guardian?  Will you do this for us?” Lanaya says, bringing me back.  I’m silent for a minute, struggling to recall what she’d just said.

“I can’t do anything without a bow first,” I come up with rapidly, showing her my useless bow.  She nods.  “Varathorn just made one of rare ironbark.  He offered it as a gift in return for bringing back the boy.”

“The one I saved from the gremlins?”

She frowns at me, puzzled.  “The…darkspawn, yes…”

I’m about to ask if he was out hunting again, but I’m sure she probably explained it while I was zoning out.  I take my chances anyway.  “Wait, I think I’m having trouble wrapping my head around this.  Explain this to me again.”

“Gerick-”

“-the boy,” I state, clarifying.  These Fereldan people have the weirdest names.

“Yes, the boy.  Gerick went out looking for you, even after he’d promised Zathrian he wouldn’t go out in the woods.  His mother went looking for him, and a wounded scout brought her body back just an hour ago,” she manages to say without losing composure.  I can see the grief in her eyes, but she didn’t let her voice shake.  “We believe bandits took him, and given your skill in tracking down bandits, we want you to find him and return him to us.”

This information hits me hard, for some reason.

 “Do you have scouts looking for him?”

“Well, all our scouts are out looking for Zathrian,” she says grimly.  She and I both knew that he’s dead, but I think she was doing that for the sake of her people.  They probably need to get used to the idea that he’s gone.

I was surprisingly concerned for the boy – I mean, Gerick – so I accepted the task.  I needed the bow anyway.  It couldn’t be that hard to find bandits with a pointy-eared child with them, until something horrible occurs to me.

“What if he’s…dead?”

“We already thought of that.  His body probably would’ve been found with his mother’s.  Most bandits steal our children to sell them into slavery,” she explains, a hard edge in her tone. 

“I’ll find him.”  I turn to leave before she grabs my wrist, breaking her calm composure in favor of an urgent one.  “Please.  Please find him.”

 “I will.”


	4. Chapter 4

Words cannot describe how determined I was to find him.  I don’t think I ever cared so much for someone I didn’t know.  I start by the river, where Lanaya said his mother was found.  Stains of dark red were still there, embedded in the grass.  All of a sudden, I regretted not meeting his mother.  Maybe he wouldn’t even be in this mess if I had.  Suddenly it occurs to me that it was my fault.  How could I have been so selfish?  Why do I have to be so bothered by Elissa as to avoid her at all costs?  I ended up helping her anyway.  I ended up saving her life, and sort of killing Zathrian.  If it weren’t for me, Zathrian might still be alive, the scouts would still be patrolling the whole forest, and Gerick and his mother might’ve been safe.  But then, Elissa would be dead.

And then I remember that her elderly companion told me on our journey to the ruins that she had the ability to _revive_ people.  I wanted to slap myself just then.

Either way, I am now accountable for this reckless and irresponsible boy.  I don’t know what it was that tied me to him, but he was now my responsibility. 

Days went by, and the trail went cold.  Everything I found led to the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest before everything went dark.  Outside the woods, I was helpless.  Out in the open, I am a sitting duck.  There’s no way I can survive, not with the “darkspawn” attacking everything and everyone outside the woods. 

“Guardian?”

I couldn’t believe my ears.  Out of all the voices that could have spoken to me, that could have found me, it was _hers_.  What is it about her voice that makes me want to throw myself off a cliff, I will never know.  I break my scowl before I spin around.

“Elissa?  What are you still doing here?”  I ask, sounding a little more hostile than I thought.

“We were trying to find more resources,” she explains, a friendly smile beginning to curl.  Oh no.  If there’s anything I hate more than being a sitting duck, it was THAT smile.  Behind her, her companions are slowly revealing themselves.  I can even see Zevran, in the distance, smirking at me.  I hated him too.  Damned elf broke my mahogany.

But I had to do it.  I promised Lanaya.  I needed the help.

“Listen,” I start grudgingly, not even daring to look Elissa in the eye, “I’ll join your group on one condition.”

“Anything.”

I sigh.  Her eagerness was making this all the more difficult.  “I need to find the elf boy from before, in the forest.  He was kidnapped by bandits.”

“I told her she would need our help eventually,” the obnoxious elf says in a sing-song voice to the blond Grey Warden.  “I told her.”

Yes, and he was unnecessarily hostile when he told me too.  I manage to ignore him, after dealing with much inner turmoil urging me otherwise.  I turn my attention back to Elissa, who seems to be contemplating.  “We need rest, but tomorrow we’ll start the search.  Most likely, they’ll be going to the ports in Denerim.”

“Why there?”

“That’s the easiest way to get to the Tevinter Imperium.”

I nod, remembering that name from somewhere.  I had been stealing things from the Dalish camp one night, when all the elves were gathered around the campfire discussing their history.  I think I’d heard one of their elders mention the Tevinter, talking about how they still enslave elves like animals.  I figure that that’s probably what Lanaya was talking about before.

Elissa leads the way away from the woods, from everything that I know in this dimension, and leads us into an open world.  It made me feel agoraphobic, the sun’s rays had a clear path to my face for the first time.  I probably looked uneasy, because the elderly woman kept turning around to check up on me.

Once we reached their camp, the sun was on the other side of the world, and I felt safer in the dark.  Immediately, I chose the most isolated spot in their clearing, following in the footsteps of a giant with white cornrows for hair that I’d never seen before.  He’d only looked at me sternly as I walked past him, his amethyst-colored eyes following my every move.  This giant wasn’t the only one they’d hidden away from the forests.  A redhead had greeted me excitedly when I first entered, and a dark-haired prostitute merely looked my way and scoffed.  I can tell she didn’t like too much estrogen around her either, judging from the nasty looks she kept throwing at me.  Whore.

Anyway, I kept to myself in the darkest corner of their camp.  It was near a murky pond, which I’m sure was the community shit pool for all the local animals.  I’ve never built a tent before, so I volunteer to be the first on watch just so that no one can judge me as I fail repeatedly.  Building the tent was considerably difficult, when I finished, it looked unstable and wobbly.  Well, I guess I can just use the canvas as a giant blanket.  Right before I get on my knees to carefully crawl in, I hear someone clanking noisily over to me.

“If you’re trying to sneak up on me, you’re not very subtle,” I say, turning around.  If it’s Zevran again, I’ll just kill myself right here and now.  Thankfully, it isn’t.  Instead it is Grey Warden #2, who obviously _sleeps_ in his armor.  He hands me a bowl of his homemade stew, making me wonder if he’d noticed that I quietly refused to eat with them before.  I was planning on buying food from Bodahn, their merchant follower, until I realized I dropped my money pouch from when Zevran knocked me down.  Bastard.

“Sorry I didn’t introduce myself before.  I’m Alistair.  I didn’t catch your name,” he says, standing a noticeable distance away from me, like if I were going to pull a knife on him.  As soon as he finishes his sentence, my tent – as if on cue – snaps and collapses, falling limply to the ground.  Two hours gone to waste, but it didn’t seem so bad when I realized that it stalled my answer.  Alistair’s eyes dart toward it, and without me even having to say anything, he’s got his hands all over it.  In minutes, the tent is masterfully done, leaving me in awe.  Yeah, I definitely couldn’t survive out here without these crazy people.

“Thanks.  I’ve been trying to figure out how to do that for hours.”

“Really?  You seem like the outdoor sort.”  I would think that too about a forest-dwelling hermit woman. 

“…I live in trees.”

An amused smile curls softly on his stubbled face, not anything like Sunshine over there.  “Uh, so thanks for the stew,” I continue, lifting the bowl slightly.  I meant for that to be a dismissal cue.  Like saying “You may leave now” but he doesn’t seem to be taking the hint.  Apparently in Ferelden, there is no such thing as being unfriendly.  Unless you’re a human sharing a forest with the Dalish.

“Are you avoiding telling me your name?” he asks, with mock suspicion in his voice.  His smile is still in place, only it turns mischievous, like if he just caught me doing something naughty.  Oh Jesus, we’ve got another Zevran on the loose.

With my deadpan voice and face, I sarcastically respond with, “I actually have amnesia,” only I don’t know if that exists in this world.  But judging from the comprehensive look on his face, apparently they do.

“Oh.  So why don’t you just make up a name for yourself?”

“I don’t have to.  The elves call me Guardian, remember?”

“That’s a little long though, don’t you think?  I could be in the midst of battle, wounded, calling out your name.  Then die a painful death before I can even finish.  …Hey, that’s not funny.  It’s not a joke, stop smiling.”

I hadn’t even realized that I had been.  Oh well.  I sit on the nearby stump, chowing down on the warm but bland stew Alistair had given me.  It was better than infected animal meat, I’ll give him that.

“So you’re just going to ignore me?”

I just look up at him as I take another sip of the stew, raising my brows in affirmation.

“Oh, that’s harsh.  I had questions about where you came from.  I knew someone who was Rivaini, he looked a lot like you.  His name was Duncan.  Maybe you knew him?”

“Amnesia, remember?” I say, pointing nonchalantly to my brain whilst wondering what Rivainis were and how they fit into the conversation.  Amnesia was the perfect excuse for everything.

“Okay…so what _do_ you remember?”

I wanted this conversation to be done with already, but I didn’t want to be so overtly rude.  Maybe it might work on Elissa, but I get the sense that this one is slightly more perceptive, despite the things I hear around camp.  I needed to be tactful.  I needed them to want me around, to help me find the boy. And to feed me. Then we can all save the world together as we hold hands, la-di-dah, and then finally I can get back to searching for the ebony mirror that brought me here.

So I yawn, obnoxiously stretching my arms and legs out.  “You know, I’m really tired… We should continue this discussion another time, yes?” – which _really_ meant:  I’ll probably never speak to you again.  But thanks for the food.

My fake yawn – which was convincing enough to be contagious – makes him yawn as well, which I’m sure affected his decision to leave me be.  “You’re right.  Goodnight,” he agrees in mid-yawn.  He whips his head toward Zevran, who is the second watchman, but his eyes go instantly dark.  “I’ll just be the second watch. Can’t trust that bloody assassin…” I hear him mutter to himself as he walks away.

So I’m not the only one who hates Mr. Self-Proclaimed Ladykiller.  Fucking elfman.

The next morning, I’m wide awake, anxious to start tracking down the bandits.  There’s a nine year old boy out there, and only God knows what the bandits have done to him by now.  I couldn’t let myself think of it.  I’ll find out when I find out, and when I do, there won’t be any stopping me.

Elissa takes me, Morrigan, and Alistair on the journey, leaving the others behind.  She leaves me to do the hunting, and after days of walking around in circles with no lead, I finally found something that I recognized.  Gerick had been wearing a satchel when I found him the first time, and here it was, on the dirt floor, mangled by new dark brown patches.  I have to close my eyes for a second, force myself to breathe in and out to calm myself.  Dried blood.  _Dried._  

Beside the satchel, the floor looked like someone had dug in their heels briefly, like if someone else was dragging them.  It had to be him.  And judging from the fact that the wind hadn’t blown it away, he must be close.

Gerick must’ve known that I was out looking for him, because it seemed like he’d been playing Hansel and Gretel, leaving behind breadcrumbs in the form of Dalish accessories.  Following in the direction of the dragged feet area, I eventually find a silver necklace hours afterward…and then a glove a sharp turn later .

“Are we…looking for clothes?”  Alistair asks timidly, picking up a boot I must’ve missed.

“ _Very_ perceptive of you, Alistair.  What do you think we’ve been doing this whole time?” the prostitute snarls, like if she were on her period for the second time this month.

“I thought we were leading you away from the group to brutally burn you at stake.  But I guess my fantasies have run away with me again,” he snaps back, his voice heavy with disdain.  On most days, I might’ve eavesdropped in on the insults they threw at one another, but I followed the example of Elissa, who seemed to totally tune out any banter behind us. 

“Where did you find that boot?” I say abruptly, interrupting their impending verbal war.  “Oh, I found it right here.  Look, there’s another over there too.”  He drops the boot, and runs over to the next one.  As I follow him, I hear a strange quieted panting, which becomes faster after every step Alistair takes.  Looking at our surroundings, my eyes stop on a nearby bush that rustles.

I tread slowly toward it.  “…Gerick?”

I can hear him gasp, and the bush becomes still. Remembering the bloodied satchel, I realize that he must be injured, possibly bleeding to death.  Cautiousness be damned.  I pull him out of the bush – after much struggle – and I’m instantly horrified by what was done to him.

His face, his pale mischievous face, is bloodied.  Blood dried from under his nose, and from several cuts on his cheeks.  His eye was bruised shut, and my own eyes stung at the sight of it.  No.  I had to be strong.  So I shook it off, trying to keep my level-head. 

“Where are they?” I demand, wasting no time.  The fragile elf boy looks up at me, his large green eye wide with fear.  Shaking, he points his finger towards the hills.  Nodding, I lift him up, my arms supporting his back and legs. “Take him back to the camp,” I say to Elissa, who is horrified by the sight of the bandits’ brutality.  Gerick recoils from Alistair as I try to hand him and the satchel to the heavily-armed man, but I insist, and in minutes I send them on their way back.

“Where are you going?” Elissa asks from behind me. 

“I’m going to take care of a few things.”

Nothing was going to stop me. They had named me Guardian, but what I really am is a whole different thing.  Retribution was something I learned well from my time at home, and it was always done with the same rage that pulsed through my veins at this moment.  Blaming myself would only waste time, all I knew was that it would never happen again.   In the valley of the hills close to Denerim, I see their campfire.  I see them sleeping with the exception of one keeping watch.  Trust me when I say they will feel a pain a thousand times worse than the pain they inflicted on the boy.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

It took awhile to wash the blood and guts from my clothes.  Elissa, as considerate as she is, never gave me armor, which is actually fine with me.  People can’t really sneak around with it, as demonstrated by Alistair, who seems to never take off his.

Gerick was picture perfect when I’d returned back to camp.  His skin is now a baby soft perfection, all scarring and bruising gone with Wynne’s remedies.  Neither one of us said anything to each other when I came back.  He simply got up from Wynne’s area, and followed me back to mine.  I sat with him on the floor, and he knew I’d ripped the bandits apart just by looking at me.

In the pack I took from their campsite, I silently passed him the necklace I found.  It was a silver chain with a matching oak tree charm.  Gerick took it after staring at it for a long time, so long that I’d thought he fell asleep with his eyes open.

It had been like that for days.  He’d sit with me, and at some point I think I let him lie on my lap him as he cried himself to sleep. 

“I don’t want to go back,” he says one morning as we’re on the road. 

“You have to.  You’ll be safe there.”

“I’m safe here.”

Even in his state of depression, his persistence doesn’t cease to exist.  I guess I liked that about him, and deep inside me, I did want to keep him around.  I wanted to protect him, but knew I couldn’t.  Elissa upheld her part of the bargain, and now I have to uphold mine.  I stop in the middle of the road, and make him face me.

“No.  Listen to me.  You’re not safe here.  I had to leave the forests to help the Grey Warden with…whatever it is she’s doing.  Remember those things we saw in the woods?  We’re going to be fighting those, and if I keep you, you’ll get hurt.  You have to go back to your people,” I explain softly.  He just looks at his feet and nods, and we continue on.

“My mother is gone.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.  My heart sinks with guilt I’ve never felt before.  It was my fault. But I banish that thought from my mind, relying on repression to expel my feelings. 

“She loved you very much,” I whisper weakly.  We’re both silenced after this, and he slides his hand into mine, squeezing occasionally to stop himself from crying.  I’d tried to not get attached to anyone, to avoid everyone, and convince myself I’m not capable of caring for anyone but myself.  I did it so that I’d survive, and so I could get home faster, but for what?  I don’t even have anything to go home to.  Except maybe hygiene.  Maybe he doesn’t have a mother anymore, but at least he has people who love him.  And even if there wasn’t anyone to take care of him back home…there was always me.  The thought crept up on me, but it was true. I’d always be there for him if he needed me.  And I didn’t even know why.

When we stopped for camp, I figured it was time to get him to smile again.  It was a decision that would probably make his mom want to backhand me wherever she is now, but I’d rather take a slap than see him mope for a second longer.

“Get up, boy,” I say, throwing Leliana’s spare wooden bow on his sleeping body.  He jolts awake, and scowls at me.  Let the Dalish wrath commence.  I return the glare, and use my own bow to lightly whip his legs.  Startled, he jumps to his feet, spare bow in hand, and begins to return the favor.  I’m too fast though, jumping every which way to dodge his feeble attempts to whip me back.  Laughter erupts from our horseplay, loud enough so that Leliana would wake up from her nap and angrily shush us from across camp.  Still giggling, Gerick asks excitedly, “Are you taking me hunting?”

I nod, and motion him to follow.  Eagerly, he trails behind me as I walk off into a small nearby forest.  It wasn’t long until I spot a lone wolf feeding off the carcass of a bear.  I hastily move behind a cluster of trees, not forgetting to check behind me to make sure Gerick hadn’t gotten lost.

“Watch me,” I mouth to him, waving him behind me just in case the wolf somehow noticed us.  I slip an arrow into the arc of the bow; my fingers slide it so that the feathers of the arrow were touching my lips.  I imagine a thousand times where the arrow will pierce.  Don’t want to miss and embarrass myself in front of a nine year old boy, as well as put him in danger when the wolf notices.  I release the arrow as I exhale, and it flies through the air until it hits its mark.

“Wow, that was so cool!  So when’s my turn?” Gerick says quickly, shaking with excitement.  I chuckle, and move toward the carcass of the wolf.  “When you see a rabbit, you let me know.”

“Nuh-uh, I wanna kill a wolf.”

“Right, good luck with that.  I bet you’ve never even used one of these babies have you?” I ask, waving my ironbark bow in his face to boast.  He only purses his lips, unimpressed.

“No, but it looks easy.”

“Mhm.”

I grab the arrow and rip it from the neck of the wolf, rub it clean on the grass, then hand it to Gerick.  “Here, use this.  Shoot it at that tree over there.”

He impatiently snatches it from my hands, almost cutting me with the sharp end in the process.

“Watch and learn, _shem.”_

Fingers masterfully place it on the bow, repeating the same movements mine had, and when it was time to release, a squeal of anticipation escapes his throat.  That is, until it falls flat as soon as the arrow simply falls to the ground.  He doesn’t even look at me as he snatches it up and repeats the movement.  _Nada._

“How _embarrassing_ ,” I tease, a mischievous smile slowly curling on my face.  It only earns me a hateful glare from him, and he tries over and over with the same result every time. 

“Do you need help, little boy?  Or are you so high and mighty as to refuse help from a shem?”

Sighing, he turns around to look at me, shame written all over his face.  I grin, and tell him to get back into position.  “It’s the nock.  You don’t have it aligned on the string.  And use three fingers this time.”

He frowns, as if it couldn’t be _that_ simple.  “Hey, who was the one who shot the wolf?  That’s right, so do it.”

And he does.  The arrow doesn’t necessarily hit the tree I had in mind.  In fact, it doesn’t hit anything, just the grass floor a few meters away, but it was definitely progress.  He laughs in delight.  “Another?”

“Just a few more, and then we head back.  It’s getting too dark to be out.”

He managed to use up all the arrows that I took with me, and only two hit the tree he was aiming for.  Ah yes, needless to say it was a happy day for this little elf boy.  Mission accomplished.  I have him help me carry the wolf back to camp, since I had promised Elissa dinner out of this little outing of ours.  I didn’t check to see if it had been contaminated by the “taint,” as these silly Wardens call it, but I’m sure Alistair could probably cook it out.

Hunting was the only way to get his mind off his mother.  The next day, he didn’t ask to help me hunt.  He’d only watch, his intense green eyes absorbing my every move.  Afterwards, he’d practice on my dead animal until one day he managed to make two consistent shots on a living one. 

That day was probably the happiest I’d ever seen him, and believe me when I say he would not shut up about his newfound expertise in archery.  In fact, he brought the story all the way back to camp, where he cheerfully distorted it so that it would sound like _he_ killed the animal.

“So she just crouched behind the bushes, shaking like a _seth’lin_ ,” he brags, falsely describing me to Sten as we’re all gathered around the campfire, “Until I whispered to her that us Dalish aren’t afraid of anything, and that’s when I jumped out of the bushes and shot the bear with a single arrow.  I must’ve scared him so bad that he froze long enough for my arrow to hit him square in the face!”

Sten nods and takes another sip of bear stew.  “I tremble for any warrior who stands in your way,” he mumbles, his face still as stone.  Gerick beams.  I look up briefly from my stew to give Sten an appreciative smile for humoring him, to which he grunts in response.

“Well, thank you Gerick for the very tasty meal,” Leliana coos at him, “I’m so glad we have someone as quick and strong as you to bring food to the table.”

“You’re welcome, shem.”

When we head back to my area, he has me sit with him on the floor, even though I’d planned to sleep.  Across from me, he settles himself on the grass, and looks at me closely.  His brows wrinkle, and he looks distressed again, no doubt thinking of his mother.  I’m about to say something funny, in an attempt to make him laugh – since I’m no good with comforting words – until he opens his mouth.

“Back home, they call me child of Fen’Harel.  Sometimes they’d call me _len’alas lath’din_ when my mother wasn’t around _._ I guess that’s why I don’t want to go back.  Only my mother cared about me.

 _“_ Fen’Harel is our god of tricks.  When the elder told us about him, I thought it would be funny to pretend to be like him,” he says shakily, looking like he was about to cry again.  “No one else thought it was funny.”

He closes his eyes to keep the tears back, so I give in to my urge to hold him close.  I reach for him, and he muffles his tears in my neck.  It felt strange and uncomfortable, but it also felt right.  With his bony arms, he pushes me away a few seconds later, remembering he was a fearless Dalish boy, not some _seth’lin_ , he called it.  Another word for pansy, I gather.

Comforting may not be my forte, but I give it a shot.  I work in a few insults to make it sound more like something I’d say though, which I’m sure will make him laugh.  “Well of course they won’t like you if you pull pranks on them, you little turd,” I smile.  “But you know what?  If they didn’t want you, then they wouldn’t have sent me to find you.”

Gerick sniffles, and wipes away his tears.  “Lanaya was the only one who put up with me, she was probably the one to send you.”

“So what if she was?  There’s one person who cares about you, and you’re looking at another person who cares about your scrawny little ass.  That’s already two more people than you thought, so could it be possible that the rest of the Dalish care too?”

His mouth opens in surprise, obviously the thought never occurred to him before.  “Maybe…”

“Besides, you can hunt now.  And you’re pretty damn good at it.  Show them how good you are, and they’ll practically be worshipping you as they’re hunting prodigy child.”

His lips pull upward into a gentle smile, looking like he liked the idea of being worshipped.  Of course he would.  They call him child of Fen’Harel for a reason.  For a moment, he closes his eyes and thinks about what I’d just said, until they snap open and dart back to me.

 “You don’t really have a name, do you?” he asks randomly, cocking his head to the side.  I’m startled by his sudden subject change, but I smirk anyway.  He seems to be the only one who caught on that I wouldn’t be giving my name out so easily, except Alistair perhaps. “Not really.  Not for this… _world_ , I guess.”

“Oh.  What was it where you come from then?”

I hesitate, even though I knew he’d keep this secret for me.  But then I figured, in case something happens to me, there would be at least someone who knew me.  It was a name I hadn’t spoken in a long time, and as soon as he hears it, he snickers.

“No wonder you don’t use it anymore,” he giggles.  I threaten to whip him again with the bow, and his giggle breaks out into laughter.  “Forest Guardian sounds like you’re more important anyway.”

He puts a finger to his chin in contemplation, and gets up for his stained satchel from the tent.  Pulling the necklace I gave back to him after we saved him, he presses it into the palm of my hand.  “It was my mother’s.  I wanted to give it to you after you…saved me from the darkspawn.  She wanted you to have it too.”

It was pretty, but there was no way I could keep this.  Not after everything that happened.  “I think you should keep it,” I say slowly.  This necklace is probably the last thing he has of his mother, and I didn’t want to take it from him.  “No, take it.  It’s too girly for me anyway.  Besides, I think it has a spell that makes you move quicker.  I thought you’d need it since you’ll be dealing with a lot more of those ogres, and you’re pretty slow as it is.”

I still insist on giving it back, but he’s made up his mind. “I don’t want it,” he declares.  Gerick is probably the most difficult child I’ve ever met, and he’s only nine.  He stares me down, looking offended every second that I don’t wear the necklace.  Sighing, I put it on, and he gives me a toothy grin.  After that, I let him settle in my tent, which, thanks to Alistair, is big enough for me and the half-sized little squirt.  Tomorrow, we’ll reach the Dalish by noon, and I’ll have to give up the only companion I like.  It will mark the beginning of the journey I promised to take with Elissa, which is bound to be painfully long and painfully annoying. 

I can’t freaking wait.


End file.
